


There Ain't No Way

by Fire_Bear



Series: Hang Cool Teddy Bear [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst and Feels, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:52:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America and England aren't in a proper relationship but they do have sex on occasion. However, that changes when England confesses his love. Will America return his feelings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Ain't No Way

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Two Outta Three Ain't Bad.

It had started at some point in the late Forties. Or was it the early Fifties? America couldn't remember the exact date and hadn't bother to try. England probably knew.

They hadn't intended to start it. But what else were they to do when America walked in on England masturbating and got terribly turned on. They had gone at it in the bathroom which England had forgotten to lock. Then they had taken it to the bedroom. America had been visiting England and they both had a couple of days off so America managed to finagle England into doing it on the couch and the kitchen table, too.

_“This is only a one time thing, America.”_

Yet, when they met up in France for some sort of meeting (America couldn't remember what it was about – he hadn't been paying all that much attention to the fancy speeches), they found themselves in a cupboard, stifling their moans by leaving hickeys. No-one else seemed to have noticed what they had done in the (far too) short break. But, as they sat in their seats, America had caught England's eye and the elder gave a nod.

A confirmation that, yes, they could look to each other when they needed release.

Afterwards, they had sex when stress was getting them, when something good had happened or if they just happened to be in the area and were bored. To begin with, England had insisted that they only do it when they were in their homes (though he hadn't minded that one time at France's party). Then England began to come to America's hotel room in the middle of the night. He said it was to talk but they usually ended up bickering until America shut him up with a well-placed kiss. Then he would lower England to the soft mattress and whatever he had come to say got lost in the passion.

As far as America was concerned, he and England were in an allies with benefits relationship. They got on well enough but America didn't think of it as love or even thought of England as his exclusive partner. (Though, he hadn't been with anyone else since England because everyone else he had flirted with turned him down.)

Every so often, though, he did find his heart beating a little faster when England spoke to him suddenly. Or he would find himself cuddling England when they were watching a movie. America didn't think that England could ever love him and he pushed these minor observations aside. He couldn't love England and he decided he never would.

Which was why it was such a surprise when England turned to him after having amazing sex one night and told America that he loved him.

* * *

 

There was a silence after his confession for a few minutes. Then America barked out a loud laugh, rolling away from England to hold his stomach and try to stifle it. When he had calmed down enough, taking calming breaths, he rolled back to find England propped up on his arms. He looked like he was about to bolt, his eyes wide as a deer faced with its predator.

“Oh,” said America, his grin slipping away. “You were serious?”

“Of course I was serious!” snapped England, sitting up properly and glaring down at America.

“But... why? Apart from... this” - America gestured between them and the bed - “all you do is nag me. And all _we_ do is argue.”

“That's-!” England paused. “I know we don't always get along but we've been better recently. Haven't we? Watching films and going to tourist attractions and all that rot.”

“Yeah, but that was just us being civil for our bosses, right?”

Exasperated, England shook his head. “What did you _think_ I was doing with you?” His eyes widened again with realisation. “Did you think we were 'friends with benefits'?!”

“Well...”

“Oh, my God,” breathed England, looking aghast. “I can't believe- All this time... This is unbelievable. I should have known.”

“Aw, c'mon. It's not that bad.” America sighed, sitting up.

“Yes it is!” cried England. “I want us to be more-! More than friends...”

“Like... boyfriends?” asked America, grimacing. The older nation was his friend and ally and if they became more there would be a chance for complications. Look at the Revolution and the mess it had left England in. He didn't want to deal with Canada berating him or France being smug.

“Lovers, partners – whatever you want to call it. Don't you want that?”

America shrugged. “I dunno. I thought what we had was fine.”

Shaking his head, England began to shift away from America, obviously intent on getting away from the other. “It's _not_ fine. You obviously don't like me-” He broke off and stopped, turning to America with his eyebrows pinched together, such was the force of his frown. “How _do_ you feel about me?”

He hesitated for a moment and, apparently, that was enough of an answer for England who swung his legs off the bed. America grabbed his wrist to stop him, however, and England turned to look at him, his scowl doing nothing to hide his hurt. “Listen,” said America, looking him right in the eyes. “I _want_ you to do things like this with me. And I _need_ you to be my ally.” He shrugged. “But there's just no way I can love you, England.”

England's eyes widened and he stared down at America for a long moment. Then he yanked his arm from America's grasp. Standing, he began to search for something, probably his clothes. “I see,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Electing to ignore the tone, America asked, “What are you doing?”

“I've got some paperwork to finish up. I was going to have to go back to my hotel room, anyway.” He pulled on his boxers, pulled on his shirt but didn't button it up and grabbed his trousers and shoes. “If you find the rest of my clothes, send them to me.” And, without looking at America, he walked out of the door, letting it swing shut behind him with a click.

Sighing, America ran a hand through his hair. Maybe he should have just said he loved England to please him but even he didn't know how he felt sometimes. Most of the time, he would say he didn't but at others...

Well, he would apologise tomorrow before letting England pull him up to his hotel room and letting him top to appease him. Hopefully, that would fix things.

* * *

 

All he could do was watch England from a distance. Whenever America got close enough to greet him, England excused himself from his conversation and hurried off. The other nations were giving him odd looks. In fact, Prussia, Denmark and France had all given him rather dirty looks when he had walked in.

He watched the grumpy Englishman laughing at Spain's antics. He watched him talking seriously to Romano and looking a little upset – and then Romano patted him on the shoulder! Wasn't Romano scared of him? He watched Japan invite him to have some of the Asian's lunch – and England accepted without a thought to America.

It infuriated America. How was he supposed to put this right if he couldn't even talk to the guy?! Maybe he should invite himself to Japan's little lunch party. Something drenched his hand and he glanced down to find that he had burst a pen. With nothing on hand to clean it – _England would have given me his handkerchief if he was sitting next to me right now_ – he flipped a page of his documents and slapped his hand to it, hoping that would help.

“What have you done?” asked a voice with a snippy tone. Excited, America looked up only to deflate when he realised it was Canada.

“Oh, hey, what's up? I burst a pen.” America knew that wasn't what Canada meant, of course, since the nation looked rather irritated.

“What did you do to England?” Canada demanded as Kumajiro appeared beside him and settled down to watch the proceedings.

“Nothing! We had sex, it was awesome, and now he's in a mood.”

Canada raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? France said you had an argument.”

“How does _he_ know?” America asked, quickly. He felt a little hurt that England had aired their dirty laundry, so to speak. And he felt enraged that everyone else was speaking to him. In fact, he wasn't sure he had ever felt like this before and it was a little worrying...

“After your... spat,” said Canada, watching America carefully, “England went to France's room. France isn't telling anyone what he said or did but Prussia and Denmark ended up drinking with him, too. The three of them know the details but they're keeping mum. And I think Norway and Romania know, too. So. What did you _do_?”

“I didn't do anything!” cried America, drawing the attention of nearby nations. “All that happened was that we- He said... _y'know_.”

“No. I don't. Explain better, America.” Canada looked as though he was getting more annoyed so America decided just to get the worst over with.

“He told me he loves me.”

“Oh, no,” groaned Canada, as though he could see where this was going. “And what did you say in return?”

“Um, well,” America hesitated.

“You rejected him.”

“I did not! All I said was that I didn't love him. But I never rejected him!”

“Oh, America,” sighed Canada. “That was almost the same thing – in fact, I would place bets on England thinking it was your way of rejecting him.”

“Tsk,” said America, picking up another pen and fiddling with it in both hands. “I didn't. I just don't think of him like that. Sure the sex is great” - he ignored Canada's lip curling in disgust - “and he's a good friend but I don't want him to be more than that. Why can't we keep things the way they were?”

“Because England saw the two of you as being more than that, I suspect,” said Canada. “Anyway, I'm going to get some pancakes. Do you want to come with me so that I can help you fix this? _If_ you can.”

But America had stopped listening, staring across the meeting table. Japan had just dropped a piece of his lunch and it had rolled to England's side of the table. As Japan apologised, England expertly picked it up with his chopsticks – _Honestly, America, England had said, you're completely useless with them, aren't you. Allow me_ – and held it out to the other nation. At first, it looked as though Japan was going to refuse. Then he hesitantly opened his mouth and England fed the morsel to him.

“America!” cried Canada as America felt something else douse his hand. Glancing down, he saw that he had snapped the pen in two. He looked around at his neighbour, his face pale. Canada was staring at him with wide eyes, ink splattered on his face and glasses.

Dropping the pieces, America looked down again and mumbled, “Ah, um, sorry.”

“You're jealous.” The words made America's head jolt up, his eyes large behind his own spectacles. Before he could protest, Canada sighed. “You're in love with England but you were too laid-back to notice until it was too late.”

“D-Don't say tha- I am not!”

Canada gave him a look that England _must_ have taught him and sighed a sigh that England surely taught him, too. His chest ached, suddenly, and he resisted placing his hand on his out of control heart.

“Tell him,” said Canada, looking over at the nation they were discussing. “Before it's too late,” he added, prompting America to look over.

England was smiling at Japan – a smile America thought he had been the only one to see.

* * *

 

For the rest of the day, America had to endure watching England interact with other nations. He seemed to flirt with everyone but America. It was painful to watch but America couldn't keep his eyes off him. When the meeting was over, America jumped to his feet, intent on dragging England to a restaurant and maybe apologising or something. However, as he reached the man, he overheard his conversation with Japan.

“-heard of a lovely restaurant nearby from Italy. He says it's brilliant – but, then, he says that about any restaurant serving pasta. I was wondering if you would like to accompany me, regardless?”

America froze. When was the last time England had asked someone to dinner with just him, someone that wasn't America? Actually, America couldn't remember him ever willingly having dinner with a fellow nation on his own. The only romantic dinners he had had were with America – and even then, they weren't the most romantic of locations.

What did this mean?

“Of course. I would be delighted to,” Japan replied with a small smile. It faded when he looked past England and spotted America. Panicking, America turned and darted away before England could turn to see him.

Without looking at anyone, he ran from the room and down the halls until he found himself in the streets of Venice. He didn't really know what he was going to do with himself. Go back to his hotel? Find something to take his mind off things? Follow England and see what he was doing?

In the end, he decided he'd go find a McDonald's and wandered off.

* * *

 

A few hours later, America found himself outside England's hotel room. He had eaten and then moped in his room. When exactly had he fallen so hard for the grumpy Brit? How could he not have noticed? Calling Canada, he was told that there were two explanations: he really _was_ as oblivious as he was believed to be or he had wilfully ignored his feelings for years. They both suspected it might have been the latter. The ensuing lecture had taken up an hour of his time, though he had only half-listened to most of it.

When he had finally gotten the chance to hang up on Canada, he had hurried along the hall. It was obvious that he was going to have to apologise and admit that he wanted to be more than allies with benefits. He wasn't sure he could tell England how he felt about him until he had figured it out completely.

With a deep breath, America knocked on the door. He held his breath and waited, listening in the relative stillness of the hotel. Beyond the barrier, he heard someone moving closer and it wasn't long before the door was opened to reveal England. He had removed his jacket and loosened his tie and looked significantly more attractive in his ruffled state. His cheeks were slightly flushed and America figured he was a little tipsy. He definitely wasn't drunk, though, because he scowled when he saw who it was instead of throwing himself into America's arms.

“What do you want, America?” he demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

“Hey,” said America, quieter than usual. “I wanted to say sorry.” England snorted in obvious disbelief. “I'm serious!” America protested.

“No, you're not. You're just saying that because Canada told you to. The boy's looking out for me, as usual, but I don't need it. I had a conversation with France last night and I'm absolutely fine now.”

America frowned. “I'm not. Canada didn't tell me to do anything. I just wanna say sorry. I shouldn't've laughed – I was just shocked, y'know?”

Eyes narrowed, England stepped forward and into America's space. “Do you really think that's the only thing I'm angry about?” he hissed.

“No!” cried America. “I-I know I said that I couldn't lo-”

“Enough,” said England, stepping away again. His red cheeks were getting darker. “I don't want to hear it again.” He moved backwards and reached for the door, obviously going to shut it. But America was quick and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from doing so.

“Wait! I...” He paused. Should he say it? The furious look in England's eye decided for him. “I love you!”

There was a tense silence, England standing rigid. Finally, he took a steadying breath and, in a low voice, said, “Are you _mocking_ me?”

Sensing imminent doom, America quickly said, “No! No, no. I just... I realised earlier today. I mean, you always call me an idiot.” He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Looks like you were kinda right.” England raised an eyebrow, as if urging him to continue. So America did. “I love you. And I want you and I need you so... will you let me in?”

For a full minute, they stared into each other's eyes. England's were filled with anger and hurt and love; America tried not to flinch away, his own trying to convey his remorse and regret and hope – and, of course, his newfound love. The older nation swallowed suddenly, glanced away and then stepped backwards. America felt his heart drop.

Shaking his head, England retreated further and said, “No, I'm sorry. I can't, America. I love you and I want you but...” England sighed. “A lot of the other nations have said that our relationship was harmful. And I don't need to be with you when I'm not sure whether you feel the same about me as I do about you. I don't _need_ that sort of relationship.”

“But-”

“America, it's over,” sighed England and, with a sad expression, he shut the door in America's face.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry?


End file.
